


Baser Instincts

by FairTradeHoney



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, PWP, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:17:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2255577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairTradeHoney/pseuds/FairTradeHoney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 9x23. In which Demon!Dean gets frisky with Cas mid-fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baser Instincts

Normally, Cas would be able to flatten Dean with little effort. Fighting a demon—even fighting _Dean as a demon_ —should have been no problem, but there’s the issue of his stolen grace. It’s been leaking out of him slowly and constantly, like air from a punctured tire, and each day he’s a little bit weaker. _Dean is stronger than me now_. The realization is disquieting. It’s also why, in the current brawl between the two of them, he’s getting his ass handed to him. When Dean throws him against the bar, Cas falls to the ground with a thud, lying limply on his back for a few moments, hoping to catch his breath.

Seizing the opportunity, Dean ambles over, making his way past overturned stools and broken tables until he’s standing directly over Cas. His breath is controlled and steady, his black eyes focused on blue as he slides to his knees, straddling Cas’ upper thighs. Cas turns his head slightly to the left, looking away and bracing for the inevitable impact of Dean’s fist. After a few moments, when the hit never comes, Cas turns back to see Dean with a smirk on his face. Also, even with those hollow eyes, there’s something devious in his gaze. This unsettles Cas. He doesn’t understand what’s happening or how to predict what’s coming next. Or how to defend himself.

Reading the confusion on Cas’ face, Dean smirks and shifts his weight, rolling his hips so as to ever so slowly and purposefully drag his cock along Cas’ crotch. When Cas’ eyes jerk wide in surprise, not only at the motion but also Dean’s obvious hardness, that smirk widens, and Dean presses his hips down with even greater force.  
The action leaves Cas disoriented, both incredibly turned on but also a little afraid, when Dean _growls_. The noise hits Cas in like a punch to the gut, and instinctively his mouth falls open, a gasp of pleasure escaping his lips. The pressure of Dean against him feels so good and his hands blindly find their way to Dean's hips, grabbing him tight, urging him to rock back and forth until his own cock catches up to Dean’s. 

Just as they build up momentum, much to Cas’ dismay, Dean shifts backward, breaking contact. Before Cas can protest, Dean reaches down and grabs Cas’ cock through his trousers. “Off,” Dean barks, a command Cas is all too willing to follow. However, rendered clumsy by lust—an unfamiliar, but certainly not unwelcome sensation—Cas fumbles about with the button until Dean impatiently swats Cas’ hand away, unzipping his pants and pulling out Cas’ long, pink, leaking cock. Dean looks down at Cas’ cock, then back up at his face, and, biting his lip, begins to stroke Cas—up and down, slowly. Cas’ breath catches with every downward stroke, his eyes never leaving Dean’s. 

As Dean begins to speed up his strokes, Cas, having somehow recovered his deft touch, reaches up and unzips Dean’s jeans. He traces the line of the waistband with both hands from front to back, finally sliding his hands inside the jeans, and squeezing Dean’s tight, muscular ass. At this action, Dean rolls his head back and emits a groan, guttural and animalistic, the motion of his hand on Cas becoming ham-fisted and irregular.

It’s Cas’ turn to smirk now, as he slides his hand inside Dean’s boxers and around his thick cock. At that, Dean’s black eyes snap back to Cas. The two begin to stroke in concert, their rhythmic motions punctuated by the occasional moan from Cas, his mouth hanging open, and echoed by grunts of pleasure from Dean, biting his lip so hard as to nearly draw blood. 

Their movements become faster, more frantic and desperate, and before long Cas whimpers, “Dean,” Followed by a much more forceful, “OH GOD, DEAN.” Before Dean can respond, Cas jerks sharply, spilling come all over his chest. The look of pleasure on his face is enough to send Dean over the edge, and he comes with the force of thunder, hot and white and blinding, and he collapses onto Cas like a sweaty, satiated a rag doll.

The two lie there for some time, longer than they need to, and probably much longer than they ought to. But, you see, that’s far easier than figuring out what comes next.


End file.
